


Are You Lost, Too?

by InkgooSupernova



Series: The Winter System [32]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes has DID - Dissociative Identity Disorder, Crack Treated Seriously, Dissociation, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Domestic Avengers, Domestic Fluff, Even to a stuffed bear, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Multi, Non-Sexual Age Play, On the Run, Sewing, Teddy Bears, The Winter Soldier is a Good Daddy, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:28:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24529891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkgooSupernova/pseuds/InkgooSupernova
Summary: Bucky would have thrown the waste of fabric in a nearby dumpster, if not for the whimpers growing louder, more desperate, at the merethoughtof doing such a thing.Why was he suddenly so attached to this stinking, half rotten lump of fur?Bucky suddenly, for no discernible reason, no longer felt like Bucky.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson
Series: The Winter System [32]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1693231
Comments: 26
Kudos: 105





	Are You Lost, Too?

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based loosely on personal experiences and events.

Bucky heard a whimper, though he wasn't quite sure where it came from.

He had been on the run after Hydra's fall for what felt like forever. He had learned a little more about his past, who the man on the bridge- Steven Grant Rogers- was, and who he was in the aftermath. He hadn't had much time to sit and think about his life for the past seventy years, or about the way he could hear others speaking around him inside his head, or about how he sometimes couldn't remember whole days, or even about how he sometimes didn't quite feel like his own person.

No, he didn't have time to sit and think. He was on the run.

Currently, he was on the run in some western European country. France? Germany? He couldn't tell. All he knew is he was staying in a no-questions-asked hole in the wall hotel where he could store his body when he just couldn't run a moment longer. He had made his way to a local corner store, and by the time he was half way back to his hiding hole, it began to rain.

Scratch that, the heavens decided at that moment to release the floodgates of hell upon the world. It felt like the city around him was currently situated directly under a waterfall.

That's why the whimpering concerned him. There was no way in _hell_ he should be able to hear such soft, pitiful whimpers beneath the ear-shattering thrum of rain pelting concrete around him.

Where the fuck was that whimpering coming from?

Bucky took a few steps back until he found himself next to the gaping maw of a shady alleyway. The whimpers seemed to get louder when he stood in the alleyway, though they didn't sound any physically closer or farther away. Were they coming from inside his own head?

What was wrong with him?

He was about to chock the disembodied whimpers up to a lack of sleep, before a soggy lump of brown fur caught his attention.

The whimpers didn't sound like they were coming from an animal, and the limp pile of fur definitely didn't _look_ alive.

Yet, despite all logic, Bucky had a strange compulsion to pick up the item, like the whimpers were coming from the sodden mess of fluff on the dirty, drug needle scattered and used condom littered ground.

He would probably get at least three diseases from picking up the lump of fur, if not for his mock serum and his metal arm.

He scooped the soaked fur up with his gloved metal hand, turning over the rather heavy lump to investigate.

It _definitely_ wasn't alive. As a matter of fact, it never was to begin with.

It was a teddy bear.

It had short, tan fur that currently looked like one large piece of fabric due to the water and dirt soaking into the plush. On top of that, it had a black domino mask sewn into its face, with one white button eye that seemed to stare at him. The other eye, it seemed, was hanging by a thread from where it must have originally been securely attached to its face, where it would have mirrored the other. The soaked bear seemed to bleed stuffing onto his gloved hand, causing Bucky to notice the torn fabric of where the bear's left arm was once attached. Finally, across the bear's belly, in an almost perfect vertical line, was a large hole where the seams must have been torn.

He recognized the bear's face from a very, very long time ago. He could remember the man on the bridge- Steve- giving him a funny looking bear just like that, though that one had a blue jacket with red buttons and a red collar. He had called it a 'Bucky Bear', told him that companies had designed it after him to sell and make money for the war efforts.

"Haven't seen any like you in a while." Bucky hummed, amused, as he realized the brand of bear he had stumbled upon. "Looks like you lost your coat, little guy."

Bucky would have thrown the waste of fabric in a nearby dumpster, if not for the whimpers growing louder, more desperate, at the mere _thought_ of doing such a thing.

Why was he suddenly so attached to this stinking, half rotten lump of fur?

Bucky suddenly, for no discernible reason, no longer felt like Bucky.

_He had a mission._

The Soldier scooped the frightened bear close to his chest, shielding what little remained of the weathered item from the torrents of rain. He was able to slip into the run down safe house of a hotel room, shucking the soaked clothes from his body while setting the bear on a nearby table.

He could hear the poor creature's pitiful cries for comfort. He felt compelled to hug it, to keep it safe.

"Vcee khorosho, moy rebenok." The Soldier hummed, pulling the sopping wet bear close to his now bare chest. The frightened whimpers died into quiet, shivering coos as he gently rocked the terrified bear.

The first order of business was to wash the poor thing. Being on a dirty alleyway floor in the rain could _not_ be clean.

The Soldier glanced around the small hotel room for anything that could help. He caught a lucky break when he noticed a small bottle of dish soap near the sink. It wasn't perfect, but it would work for the time being. He got to work carefully pulling the rotten stuffing from the bear's body, quelling the creature's upset cries with quiet, hushed whispers. Once all of the stuffing had been removed, he carried the limp skin to the sink, thoroughly soaking and scrubbing the fur inside and out until he was certain there wasn't a speck of dirt left in the fabric's fibers.

"There, already looking so much better." The Soldier hummed, setting the lump of fur on an old towel in front of the space heater. "You'll feel better soon. I'm going to take care of you. You're safe here."

The Soldier felt good when he heard soft, gentle hums instead of the previous terrified cries.

Over the course of a few days, the Soldier had managed to scrounge together some extra money in order to gather the supplies necessary to help his newly adopted bear. A manual labor job here, a back alley blowjob there, and a night of picking up loose change off the sidewalk, had given him enough to buy some soft grey fleece, some black yarn, a package of new stuffing, a small zipper, and a spool of red and black thread.

"Privet, moy rebenok." The Soldier had quietly called into the hotel room, his bags of craft supplies in tow. "I finally got everything, you're going to feel better."

He couldn't help the warm feeling in his chest as he gathered the sleeping bear into his arms, setting the fluffy body on a towel on the nearby table. He had given himself stitches in the middle of battles and in worse conditions than this. He could surely fix up the little bear.

He started first on fashioning a replacement arm, cutting and sewing the grey fleece into a somewhat cylindrical shape before sewing strips of black yarn into the fabric. He managed to create three paw-fingers by tightening the yarn and thread around the end of the arm, before stuffing the limb and sewing it to the hole where the bear's original arm once sat. He then decided to mock-embroider a small star to the fleece arm's shoulder, doing his best to mirror his own.

Once satisfied with the replacement limb, he got to work sewing the small zipper into the front of the bear's belly. He knew the bear would be much too fragile to wash in a machine, so an easy way to take out the stuffing for cleaning was a must. After testing the zipper that was now holding the bear's belly closed, he got to work reinforcing the loose button eye's string with yarn. He couldn't help it, the way the eye dangled from the bear's mask gave the fabric a sort of charm. It was broken, the same way he was, and that was okay.

Once all of the sewn treatment had been completed, the Soldier got to work tearing large, fluffy clouds of stuffing from the package and shoving them into the bear's body. He couldn't help the joy that blossomed in his chest as the bear's body took proper shape once more, now fluffy and plump instead of scruffy and limp.

He held the bear up with both hands, admiring his work.

The bear seemed much happier with its recovery. He could practically hear the little creature chirping and humming with glee.

The Soldier had created something. _Fixed_ something.

Weapons did not feel pride.

Satisfied with the way the bear had turned out, the Soldier made his way to the hotel bed with the bear in tow. He laid down to rest his heavy body, keeping the bear nestled tight against his chest to help the tired little fluff ball sleep soundly.

Bucky had woken up, exhausted, clinging to the stuffed bear.

"What the..." He grumbled, eyeing the lump of fur that was currently squashed against his chest. He couldn't remember bringing the bear from the alley way to the hotel, nor could he remember how the bear had gotten cleaned and fixed. Come to think of it, he couldn't remember the past _week._

What was _wrong_ with him?

He almost died with a mix of existential dread and ironic humor as he caught sight of the bear's replacement arm.

"What the _fuck?_ A _Winter Soldier_ bear? Is _that_ what this is?" He laughed to no one in particular. He didn't even startle when he heard a familiar growling from somewhere in the back of his skull. "A _Winnie_ bear?"

There were the whimpers again, though this time much less frightened. They seemed to be coming from both somewhere inside his own head _and_ from the bear resting in his arms.

"Huh, Winnie? You like that name?" Bucky hummed as he lifted the bear.

He was _talking_ to a _stuffed bear._

The loneliness must have been getting to him. That _had_ to be it. There was no other logical explanation as to why he was talking to a stuffed animal, much less _hearing_ the toy respond to him.

_What was wrong with him?_

He didn't have time to think about that as he heard police sirens in the distance. He made quick haste shoving the bear into his back pack of important items, clipping the straps of the bag across his chest for security, and slipping out of the window to their next destination, where ever that may be.

———

"Papa? Do y'u think Winnie came from Raggedy land?" Jamesy piped up, trying to stifle his yawn as he spoke.

It was another night in the tower, and Daddy and Papa were currently reading Jamesy and Winnie one of the many children's books they had before bed. That night's book of choice was 'Bubbles Goes To The Fair', a Raggedy Ann and Andy book that Jamesy had picked up at a yard sale a few months back.

Papa had just gotten to the part where Bubbles the Clown and the other Playroom toys arrived in Raggedy Land for the Raggedy Land Fair, when Jamesy had pointed out the teddy bears walking around in the illustrations of the colorful, patch-work world.

"Hm, I don't know, do _you_ think he came from Raggedy land?" Papa asked, causing Jamesy to look down at the bear snuggled against his chest. Jamesy thought for a moment.

"Yeh, I think he did." Jamesy hummed, a sleepy smile playing across his face. Papa hummed and continued the story, though Jamesy was asleep long before he could hear about how Bubbles the Clown won the juggling contest by using apples to juggle after he had forgotten his juggling balls in the playroom.

In his moments before sleep, Jamesy could feel the Soldier hugging him and Winnie close to his chest in their own inner world, somewhere deep in their own mind.

In that moment, they truly felt warm and loved within their own body.

**Author's Note:**

> **Translations:**
> 
> Vcee khorosho, moy rebenok: Everything's okay, my baby.
> 
> Privet, moy rebenok: Hello, my baby.
> 
> I am not fluent in Russian, so if any of these are wrong feel free to correct them!
> 
> **References:**
> 
> The bear Bucky finds is a [Bucky Bear](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MTCKgoqwuS4), a stuffed bear designed to resemble the classic comic version of Bucky Barnes.
> 
> The book Sam reads to Jamesy and Winnie is [Bubbles Goes To The Fair.](https://www.abebooks.com/9781558021181/Bubbles-Goes-Fair-Raggedy-Ann-1558021183/plp)
> 
> Any behaviors related to DID or Autism Spectrum Neurodivergency within this story are based on **personal experiences** and are not a scientific basis or professional explanation for either DID systems or Autism Spectrum Neurodivergency. No two people, let alone no two systems, are exactly the same.
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated!


End file.
